Furiosity
by Blondie B. Happy
Summary: Run, she thinks. Run until they can't get to you. Until all air escapes you and your heart stops beating. Run until it's impossible. Run until you drop dead.


***I deleted this, but due to request I am reposting it under a new name with changes. It was called Fear's Flight before. This one IS different though, just the same general concept.* Book based, takes places after the House of Hades. OOC for a reason. Typos here and there. Enjoy!**

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_furiosity—(noun) the state of (a person) being insane; insanity_

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_Run,_ she thinks. _Run until they can't get to you. Until all air escapes you and your heart stops beating. Run until it's impossible. Run until you drop dead. _

Who 'they' are, she does not know. The only thing she is certain of is that there is some sort of sanctuary within those trees in the distance.

She's running.

She doesn't remember the kick off or the purpose behind it, but she is running like she's never going to stop again. She's running so fast that she's already hit the wall and gotten past it. There are no reservations and nothing to hold her back. She doesn't need air.

Why is she running?

That's a wonderful question that she contemplates as she keeps going. Not a single part of her wants to stop and she has no idea why. Her hands are shaking from something that she can't exactly place. She can't let them get to her.

And then it's as if she is flying. She is going so fast that the wind can't seem to grab her and the ground is nothing more than a guide. She is in complete control of this situation, it would seem. She will not be a puppet. She will not fold to the will of those around her.

The trees wave hello.

Fear waves goodbye.

She can't remember why she is supposed to be fearful in the first place.

There's a forest ahead of her. It's the kind of forest she's only dreamed of seeing. The trees have big branches and mossy coats hanging off of the limbs. They sway in the wind and she gets closer, closer, closer, and they are just beckoning her to come on in.

Why is she running?

Trying to think and the need to clear her mind fully from this befuddled state make her stop running. She has to practically skid to a stop and it's right at the edge of the forest. The air has dropped ten degrees since she started running. When did she start running?

The sky over the nice, cool forest is an alluring dark blue, and beautiful nighttime scenery that she hasn't seen in so long, it would seem. Where is she again? She turns to see where she has come from exactly because for some reason she really cannot remember.

But this sky behind her is blood red and dark, and now she can remember that the air was also blood warm. The sky is nothing but a cavern so high up that she can't even dream of touching it. Into the forest or back into the blood?

There should be no questions. She continues into the forest because it seems to be somewhat of a heaven compared to what she left behind. Like Elysium.

Blinking, she stops. Elysium? The word is so familiar to her and yet so foreign. It has a beautiful, angelic ring to it. She says it aloud but cannot place where she may've ever heard the word. She cannot think of another synonym or a definition.

She knows the antonym is the world outside of the forest.

Wait. Who is 'she' again?

She can't remember anything and it's so frustrating because she is ridiculously smart and is always in the know. But she doesn't know who she is or where she is or why in the name of the gods she is running like a madman is chasing her. She doesn't know why she isn't out of breath or bleeding from the sharp branches hitting her body.

She stops for a second and looks around, observing the gorgeous scenery of this place that she is unfamiliar with. And that's when she feels the start of that searing pain in her limbs, coursing through her body like a river of fire, and then she can't even breathe.

She begins to shake and she looks at the front of the forest.

Out there is the horrid landscape that she now knows about. How could she forget? She's been down here for days, with him, Percy Jackson, but she has no idea where he is right now. She remembers _Percy_, she realizes.

She remembers why she is running.

Fear waves hello once more.

She can't stand it but she is screaming. She's screaming, "PERCY!" and "HELP!" and unintelligible words. She's now noticed the monsters in the distance, but they are closing in fast. Why did she ever come into the forest?

The forest is Hell, she realizes. Hell disguised as heaven.

Now she has no idea where she can run to. There is no place to run to. The monsters are even closer to her in the forest. This isn't good. She isn't smart anymore. She is not thinking right. She is desperate.

And in the army of monster that is walking towards her, she sees a dead Percy hanging from the grasp of one of them. She is screaming even louder, but part of her body won't even believe it. No, he's too strong to have died, though she realizes that many probably would've said the same about her.

She needs to flee but to flee where?

All she can see now is the blood dripping off of Percy onto the blood red fields beneath the blood red sky. She remember the fall now, and the whispered words, "I love you." She remembers the river of fire and Night and the monsters of curses. They are among those closing in at this moment. She gulps and her throat won't work anymore. She's screamed it raw.

Why didn't she start running?

The monsters are here now. They are all around her, slashing at her body and breaking her bones. She wails and watches the monsters discard Percy's body. They all combine effort to ruin her. She feels her skin peel off and the tears stop now. She can't cry anymore. There's only pain.

She has no weapon. She can't defend herself. Percy is dead. She's in Hell. There's blood everywhere. She can't even scream anymore. She absorbs the pain and silently prays for it to stop.

_STOP_! She yells every time a rib breaks.

_STOP_! She yells when she is backhanded across the face and slammed into the ground.

_STOP_! She yells when something sharp enters her gut.

_STOP_!

She wakes up to a voice.

"Annabeth," Percy says, his voice gruff from sleep. His hair is sticking up in every direction. He's wearing an old shirt and pajama pants that definitely fit him a few weeks ago but now hang loosely from his weak frame. He is standing in the doorway, concern etched into his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and she really doesn't know the answer, because she is not okay.

She is Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, head architect of Olympus and head counselor of the Athena cabin at Camp Half-Blood, girlfriend to Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon. She is a role model to the younger campers and she has been on more quests than most people. She's defeated monsters of all kinds.

But right now, she is nothing more than a girl who gets triggers from those awful events just by sleeping. She is the one that those little kids wouldn't be able to recognize. She hates it because she looks weak and she acts weak now. She can't go to sleep without seeing Tartarus in front of her and remembering it.

Those little kids would call her a freak now.

And even though Percy has sat down next to her in his bed, kissing her and telling her that everything is okay, she knows that it's not. When she closes her eyes, Percy's hands disappear from her body and she is being strangled.

"Everything's going to be fine," Percy is murmuring, hands around her waist, lips at her ear, hair tickling her temple. "I promise."

But she cannot help but feel that tremble in his movements, and she knows that he is being haunted by his own demons. Tartarus is still with them. She fears that it will never leave.

Strange. It almost seemed easier to cope with everything when she was down there for all those days, barely surviving with Percy. She remembers the pain and helplessness and the fact that she couldn't do anything about it. She, Annabeth Chase, shivers and cowers under the blankets, her boyfriend's comfort forgotten.

This is the girl that looked Hell in the eyes and lived.

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_Hell is empty and all the devils are here—William Shakespeare _


End file.
